Leave Your Body at the Door
by PhantomKino
Summary: It is not right that everyone read the pages that follow: a sole few will savour this bitter fruit without danger. As a result, wavering soul, before penetrating further into such uncharted barrens, draw back, step no deeper. This is the story of a mind.
1. Chapter 1

**Leave Your Body at the Door**

* * *

><p>It is not right that everyone read the pages that follow: a sole few will savour this bitter fruit without danger. As a result, wavering soul, before penetrating further into such uncharted barrens, draw back, step no deeper. Mark my words: draw back, step no deeper, like the eyes of a son respectfully flinching away from his father's severe contemplation. Leave your body at the door, for this is the story of a mind.<p>

* * *

><p>"He deserves this. <em>He deserves this<em>. You know it." No light sparkled in the eyes of blue sheet-metal. Every word was a proclamation; there was no feeling, no uncertainty. Was it still a human mind behind the words?

The second figure shuddered. "You can't say that. Please..."

"I hate him."

* * *

><p>The rims of the boy's eyelids shuddered and rocked open to a slit. Far in the distance, he heard a mumbled statement that grew closer to him with each echo, louder and clearer until it formed three searingly clear words. "<em>I hate him<em>."

Who said that?

His vision was overlayed with sheets of white gossamer that blurred colors and shapes beyond recognition. The dark, curled spikes of his eyelashes framed his vision no matter how much effort he put into holding them wide. Could he move? He tried shifting his eyeballs left and right in the faint hope of finding something he could see, but he couldn't move them. What about his lips? Could he speak?

_Help me_, he croaked, _someone help me..._

The suffocating silence that followed told him volumes. He could not whisper the faintest sound, feel the slightest sensation. He was trapped within his body, a prison of his flesh holding him for eternity in a perfect, inescapable oubliette. He waited for the tears, but the familiar hot burning at his eyes never arrived. It was a blessing; people hated him because of his tears. No one knew what to do with a boy who cried, especially when that boy was supposed to be a hero. After the horror of the assimilation, of Instrumentality, there was simply nothing left to provoke emotion from the cold husk of his body.

_I'll never cry again..._

If his dead, limp body still had the capability of crying, he would a wept in happiness at the thought.

* * *

><p>"Did you see that?"<p>

Her companion's breathless exclamation failed to arouse any interest in the girl. "No," she murmured, simply stating the facts. Stating facts was all she seemed to do recently. She glanced briefly up at the boy on the bed. The sight made her grow warm with some alien emotion, and the bitter taste of tears or bile rose in her mouth. She couldn't stand to look at him, she even didn't know why she willing sat in his hospital room. The girl plucked one of the long strands of red hair from her head and devoted all her concentration to it as she wrapped it tightly among her fingers, studying the pale raised rings and bumps the skin formed as the thin cord wound around it. She couldn't help but wonder- if she could make it tight enough, would it cut her? Did she still even have blood?

The girl's older companion stood and rushed over to the boys bedside, ducking into his face. "Look at his eyes. _His eyes._" The girl didn't bother looking. "He-" the woman's words choked to an end as a sob rose in her throat. "is... is he awake?"

The girl froze. The strand of hair snapped, releasing her finger from captivity. "What did you say?" A compulsion started to rise in her mind. From Love? Hate? Revenge?

The woman at the bed shook her head, as if the quick motion would throw any amount of uncertainties and disbelief from her mind. After a second look told her that no, she was not seeing things, his eyelashes moved from something other than the gusts of her breath. She felt herself growing dizzy. The same feeling of empty dizziness she felt when he kissed him, and again when she was reborn from the red-orange sea of life. Carefully, she reached to brush some stray chocolate hairs from his forehead. "He's awake... he's finally awake." The woman jumped back, slightly startled as a few drops of clear liquid splashed on the boy's cheek, jerking her into to reality again.

Her commander persona started to seep back into her as she wiped her eyes. "Go get the doctor, sweetie." She rubbed the last of the warm, gel-like liquid from her eyes and snorted the burning, running mucus from her nose into her sleeve. Frantically, she rubbed the tips of her fingers in hard circles over her face to help herself return to normal coloration and a respectable expression before the doctor arrived. She halted as she realized the girl hadn't moved a muscle. "I know you don't want to be here. But please_, please _get the doctor. I can't leave him alone right now. I can't just- Asuka?"

The girl stood wordlessly, fists clenched. The metal chair groaned and rocked back on its hind legs until it fell back with a resounding clatter. Her head was tilted down, dull rust bangs hiding her steely eyes from her guardian.

"The doctor..."

It was clear that the girl wasn't hearing words, wasn't hearing anything.

It was as if her dull, dying body was jerked back into life for the first time since her rebirth. Her mane of shaggy hair was ignited by some unknown force and aflame once again, leaving a fiery trail behind her as she lunged forward onto the boy's bed and clasped her hands around his neck, squeezing it like an artist needing the last drop of red paint from a tube to complete her masterpiece.

She would not stop until she saw red.

_"An eye for an eye,_" she hissed, _"...Shinji."_

* * *

><p>This will be continued.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**II**

* * *

><p>The boy found himself lying in an expanse of nothingness. Awake or dreaming, he couldn't quite tell. Before trying to move, he tried to feel. Could he? He was lying on <em>something<em>, certainly. Carpet? Dirt? He adjusted his position ever so slightly to dig his body further into the ground. A light crunching sound gave him his answer.

_Sand?_ he murmured. Yes, it was sand. It was itching. It hurt his skin, dug into it like fine powdered glass ready to inflict a million microscopic wounds the moment the wind picked up. _Wind... skin... I'm not wearing clothes, am I?_

He realized he hadn't yet opened his eyes. If he did, he would probably see something that would make him regret his decision, like the decaying head of the titan Rei, or the mangled remains of Unit-02 and its pilot, the sight that pushed him over the edge to begin the end. Vision could be more curse than blessing.

A faint memory floated into his head, reminded him that he wouldn't be able to see, even if he opened his eyes. The boy sniffed the air for the smell of antiseptic, but sensed nothing, and wonder just what caused him to think he was in a hospital in the first place. After all, what hospital would smell of LCL?

_LCL?_

Where was he? What was happening? His body sensed something was wrong, even if his mind was too slow to catch up, and frantically extended his senses in search of the threat.

The boy's breath caught in his throat. There was nothing to scare him into shock. Nothing to hurt him and make him cry. So why couldn't he breath normally? Realizing that there was no other option, the boy opened his eyes, only to find himself staring over the red ocean and into the eyes of Lilith's severed head. He was back at the end of the Impact. He was on the beach. Blue spots began to speckle his vision, and he realized it had been quite a while since he felt himself breathe. The boy turned his head, looking up into what should have been the sky.

Instead he saw a fire-haired girl with wild, desperate eyes, her slim hands gripped firmly around his neck.

_No,_ he whispered, using some of his precious air, _it didn't happen this way._

Tears dripped from the girl's eyes onto the boy's face as he felt something snap inside him. This was wrong. This didn't happen, so he was dreaming. Why was he dreaming _this_?

He could feel his lungs burning.

_I feel sick._

* * *

><p>Seconds before, the hospital room was the dullest, sanest space in the new world. Sterile white sheets, less sterile but just as plain white paint. Metal chairs, the bare minimum of comfort. Two silent, motionless humans and one more silent, more motionless corpse. Or, perhaps not a corpse. there was life, but life enough? Thought? Emotion?<p>

No one was pondering these questions amidst the room's newfound chaos.

Dozens of machines and alarms sang in infernal electric chorus, accompanied by the screams of two women and the shouts of half a dozen doctors.

The younger woman screeched like a wild animal and lashed out at the doctors pulling her from her prey. Her nails ripped through their masks and hospital scrubs, but failed to do enough damage to allow her to return her attention to the boy on the bed. Firm grips closed around her wrists and waist as three doctors dragged her away towards the hall.

The older woman draped herself over the patient in a far-too-late gesture of protection as the girl was carried away. Two men in lab coats stayed behind to re-examine the limp form and fix the beeping machines damaged in the attack.

"Is he okay?" asked the woman, her ear pressed against the boy's chest. His heartbeat was so faint that every few seconds she would hear it cease and begin to panic, only to realize that it simply wasn't loud enough for her to hear. There was no discernable rhythm, either; it was almost as if the boy was still experiencing a rush of adrenaline and fear. Was it possible? The woman shuddered at the thought. If he was awake and aware during the attack, it would have done irreparable damage to his fragile mind. "Shinji..."

* * *

><p><em>What... just happened?<em>

Heavy white mists closed around the boy, the endless whiteness erasing everything around him from existence. The pressure around his neck and in his chest faded away as the fire-haired girl dissolved into nothingness in the fog.

_Is this Instrumentality?_

Maybe. Maybe it was. He couldn't see himself through the thick white ocean around him, but he was at least aware of himself. Aware of his thoughts, and aware of what had been happening to him seconds before.

_Asuka..._

The hairs on his neck prickled as he rolled the name around carefully in his mind. _Asuka._ He loved her at one point, didn't he? Shinji shook his head violently to clear the memory from his mind, scattering the mists for a fraction of the second. It was a lie to say he was in love with Asuka in the months before. Instead, he found himself head over heels fr the idea of her. To a weak-willed, introverted, average boy, the girl was a godsend. She was everything he wasn't- exotic, temperamental, bold, loud and energetic.

Except, she wasn't.

She was human, but he failed to see that until it was too late. By that time, she was an apathetic stranger and he was desperate beyond what words could express.

"Is he okay?"

_Who said that? _Who cared? Misato was dead. His mother was dead. The Rei who loved him and Kaworu Nagisa were dead. By the numbers, there was no one left who would possibly care about his well-being. It must be some concerned stranger, then, who found him sleeping. _I should probably wake up, then. Tell them to save their trouble._

After willing himself into consciousness, the boy was somewhat surprised to find that nothing had changed. He knew the mists weren't real. Nothing around him was real. He _had_ to be asleep; he _knew_ it.

_I... I am asleep. _

_Right?_

_And... And I'll be waking up in a minute._

_...right?_

* * *

><p>"Misato..." mumbled the woman in the lab coat, fiddling nervously with one of the arms of her glasses. The dark-haired woman on the other end of the room didn't move a muscle; she remained frozen over the boy's bedside with a look on her face somewhere between concentration and daydreaming.<p>

"Misato... I'm afraid it could be quite a long time before he wakes up."

No motion. Did she hear her?

"It- it really would not be practical for you to wait for him the entire time he's... sleeping." Once again, the woman showed no reaction, but simply turned her head to look out the window, as if there was something out there that could advise her. "Misato?"

The woman by the bed began to choose her words carefully, worried that one small step off the path would make her even more enemies. "Tell me..." she began, biting down on her bottom lip to stop an uncontrollable wave of words, or tears, or both, "Ritsuko... has there ever been anyone... who's messed up as much as I have?"

The blond doctor blinked in concern and confusion; she knew that there would be no right answer to the question that her friend would believe. So she waited.

"I mean, think of the pilots. The _children_. Wasn't I in charge of this? Look at Shinji." When the doctor averted her glance, the woman felt a brief flare of anger in her chest. "I said _look at him!_"

"Misato-"

"Did he deserve this? Did he deserve _any of this?_ This is _my fault_, Ritsuko. There was something I couldn't give him. I don't know what, but it was something he needed. And Asuka... she's no better off, is she?"

The doctor sensed the other woman standing on the verge of hysterics. Her right hand gripped a corner of the bedsheet so tightly her knuckles were turning white. It was time to stop her before the downward spiral went out of control. "Asuka is fine. She's healthy. Hell, Misato, she made that fastest recovery from the shock of Instrumentality I've seen yet. Earlier... I don't know what happened to her earlier, but there's nothing-"

"Are you blind? Asuka is... something broke. Inside her. While she was still under my care. Hell if I know what I did, but I pretended I didn't notice. So it would go away sooner. It didn't." She reached out for the boy on the bed and stroked his cheek. "And Rei? Rei... I should have figured out what you and that bastard were up to with her. I should have seen it. Even the Angel... Kaworu Nagisa was a sweet boy, really, wasn't he? He would have been _good_ for Shinji and Asuka."

"He was the enemy-"

"I don't think so." Something clicked in her thoughts, and she stood to stare the doctor eye-to-eye. "Were _any_ of the Angels enemies, Ritsuko?"

The doctor did not respond.


	3. Chapter 3

**III**

* * *

><p><em>Someone help me! <em>the boy shouted, _Anyone! Please!_

Of course, nobody could hear him when his cries only reached the borders of his subconscious. He was beginning to panic. What was going on? If he was asleep, then why couldn't he wake up? The boy's eyes widened as an errant thought took hold of all his fears and dragged him to the surface. _Am I... dead?_

Did he still have a body? The boy couldn't see one. A test, then; he lifted what he hoped was his right hand, trying to bring it as close to his face as possible so he could see it through the solid mist. he never did see it, but he was surprised and slightly relieved when he felt his palm touch the touch the tip of his nose.

Maybe the fog didn't go on forever. Maybe if he could stand, he could walk, and walk away to safety and sanity. It was then that the boy realized he could not walk, not if there was no ground. Was there? His senses couldn't tell him anything; they were, muddled, confused, and simply didn't function in the dream world. He would simply have to hope.

Finally, when he thought he was standing, the boy relaxed at little. This was control, if only a little. Soon, he would wake up, and nothing he did would matter anymore, anyway.

A sound.

The boy's ears pricked, and a small electric shiver raced through his brain and down his spine, leaving him petrified. There was a sound. It was so faint, it barely registered in his mind. However, the boy became certain with that one, small, indescribable sound that he was not alone in his own head.

_Is someone there?_

There was no answer, but the boy did not expect one. There was silence in the mist, only interrupted by the soft, quick pants of his own breathing. He could feel his heart flutter faster as his eyes darted through the layers of fog in vain.

_Help me_, he murmured, breathlessly at first, unaccustomed as he was to the sound of his own voice. _Help me! Help me, please, someone! _He ran blindly, like a madman, an old King Lear in the body of a frightened boy.

_Oh god... please. Please. Please..._

* * *

><p>The heart rate monitor sounded its frantic, beeping alarm, jerking the woman from her sleep. The numbers kept climbing, faster than the woman would have thought possible, and seemed thoroughly at odds with the still, silent boy on the bed. A second monitor, in charge of the measurement of brain activity, drew a scrambling of thin blue lines across the black screen of its monitor and set of its own miniature siren as it ditected the gargantuan abnormality.<p>

For a second, the woman was paralyzed. fear, confusion, and tiredness mixed together to form a sort of tranquilizer for her brain as she stared in horror.

The door to the hospital room flew open and crashed into the doorstopper. The woman jerked out of her stasis and fled the room; if he died in front of her, she would never be able to wipe the image from her eyes.

Her feet fell hard on the perfectly sanitized linoleum floor; running was painful in her fashionably narrow shoes. A few times, she felt her shoulder graze someone else's or hit against the wall; it was almost impossible to see through her burning, teary eyes.

The woman stumbled, and her will cracked. He couldn't die. He _couldn't_ die. He was so young, so fragile. He had already survived so much...

A handle poked against her head. A door. She honestly did not care if there was a patient in the room; she needed to be out of the hallway. Somewhere private, to collect herself. After all, she was supposed to be in control, leading the reconstruction. It wouldn't do to find the leader of the recovery cowering in a hospital. She flung herself into the room and collapsed as the door closed behind her, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

"Is he dead?"

The woman looked up to the voice, eyes widening as she recognized the long, flame-colored hair and steely eyes. She managed to pull herself together for just a second to stutter out a reply. "N-no... Asuka, why are you here?"

"They locked me in here. After yesterday. You chose to stay with _him,_" she spat the word with a peculiar venom, "...so I never got to leave." For a fraction of a second, the girl sent a glare straight into her guardian's eyes and, feeling she made her point, proceeded to carefully pull two rubber bands from their place around her wrist and pull her hair into her 'signature' style. She hated it, but it was what people expected of her, wasn't it? Changing it now would be useless. She felt a few strands tug and snap as she fixed them into place, but they didn't hurt or even annoy her like they would have a few months before. She looked back to her guardian- _guardian, _she scoffed, _what did she ever do to guard me?_- only to see the older woman sitting in front of the door, her knees pulled into her chest with her face hidden against them. The sight made the girl reel. _He _had always sat like that after they fought an Angel. Trying to hide within himself. Afraid of everything. And yet it never gave him any comfort; the girl knew, because whenever she kicked him or shouted at him to bring him back to Earth, he looked just as miserable as he did before his meditation. No. The only thing that _stupid, stupid _position of introspection could accomplish was to force others to shower him with useless pity.

The girl hated it, because it worked. He was not worth pity, but she pitied him, and hated him for how he manipulated her without realizing it. _Hated him. _And she hated him for leaving her alone in that final fight, even though she looked brave and looked triumphant.

And most of all, she hated that he cared for her, cared for her enough that the sight of her mangled remains pushed him over the edge.

"Asuka..." murmured the woman, without looking up, "Please forgive me."

This caught the girl off guard. Her eyes lit up with a brief flash of curiosity, an expression that hadn't crossed her face in quite a while.

"I'm sorry... for always paying more attention to Shinji than I did to you." This thought had bothered the woman for quite a while. She was to proud to admit it, but now she was alone with the girl she wronged for the first time since the Third Impact. "I really did do that... didn't I?" The woman finally looked up, starled by the low, humorless chuckle that echoed through the room.

"You think _that's_ the problem?" the girl laughed, dryly, "You seriously believe... that you're so great? That I _care _about that?"

"Asuka, I'm trying-"

"-To make things better, I know. It's not working." Cheap springs let out a short metal cry as she allowed herself to fall back onto the hospital bed. "You should go back to precious little Shinji. See if he's been reunited with his mommy yet, won't you?"

The woman's sobbing gave way to hot tears of anger. She was no longer trembling. A few quick strides brought her to the girl on the bed, paying no attention and betraying no feeling. She picked distractedly at the skin around her fingernails, and didn't even flinch when she felt the woman's hand slap across her cheek. A few silent seconds ticked away, and she reached up to the reddening patch of skin with dull surprise.

Still and silent, except for her heavy panting and sobs, the woman left the confused girl alone in the hospital room.

* * *

><p>The boy raced through his subconscious. He knew his heart rate was climbing to ridiculous levels, but he couldn't stop running. He couldn't explain why he was running. He needed to stop. he needed to wake up, or he would die, alone, in fear and blindness.<p>

Maybe he wanted to die.

But he didn't want to die alone.

_Someone..._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>For the record, the entirely of this story is just a little idea that came into my head after reading The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. When I begin a new chapter, or even a new scene, I have no idea where it will go. This means that I am open to suggestions! However, I do think that I'll be able to bring this story to a somewhat satisfying resolution within a few more updates. Until then, reviews and/or comments would be appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

* * *

><p>The boy had been running for hours in his mind, and who knew how long that was in the real world? Time and perception do not exist in dreams, and this nightmare was no different. However, as he feeling began to dull down, the boy felt a lingering sense of doom begin to creep up and smother all other emotions, even his fear and panic. At first he could not imagine why, but the answer finally dawned on him after collapsing from his mental exhaustion.<p>

He knew he would never wake up.

He_ knew_ that this was part of his punishment.

When he was still truly alive and capable of sensation, his last selfish flourish in the world was to create a realm without singularity or individuality. He destroyed the world, because he was scared. He was scared up fate and his father, of a painful death. He was worthless, and wanted to be surrounded by people whose virtues would render his weaknesses inconsequential. He created a paradise for himself, and a hell disguised as paradise for the rest of humanity.

Unfortunately, when faced with this seemingly perfect, flawless world without boundaries, the boy panicked. He had gone too far. It was too bold a move, something he had no right to do. He ended the second world, but he never truly awoke from it. The souls of the world were wreaking their revenge upon him; he wanted to create a world with a monstrous conglomerate of consciousness for his own safety and comfort, so fate saw to it that he ended up trapped alone, within his own, individual mind.

_Forever... _That was it. He had been holding it in for so long, the boy was almost surprised to feel the hot stinging in his eyes that signaled the beginning of an onslaught of tears. It was the first time since he ended the world. It wasn't silent, contemplative crying; it was inelegant blubbering that physically hurt him and made it almost impossible to breathe or see. Shuddering overtook his fragile body as he tried and failed to exert self control, and for once the solitude felt like a blessing.

_Shinji._

There was a voice. The boy couldn't for coherent syllables in the state he was in. He tried calling out, ,but could only manage a choked cry.

_Shinji, can you hear me? Can you follow my voice?_

The voice had no sound or distinguishing qualities, for it was projected directly into his subconscious. He didn't know if he should be afraid.

_Stand, _it commanded. _Let me guide you._

The boy tried to push himself to his feet, but the effort was futile. His body was still coursing with fear, regret, and strange emotion,and he had no control. Even while piloting, he had never felt so overwhelmed. _Was this how Asuka felt when the Angel... defiled her mind?_ he wondered, shuddering. If it broke the will of such a strong, confident, fiery girl, there was no way the boy stood a chance. He resigned himself to his fate.

The presence in his mind would have none of that. _Shinji, listen to me. Sweet Shinji, darling Shinji... This is your final chance to return. So follow my voice, love... I will help you stand..._

Whether the presence;s intent was truly benevolent, the boy had no idea, but a warm emotion coursed through his body like warm tea to someone starved and freezing, and he found himself revitalized. _A final chance, huh? _he thought, _ A final chance for what?_

Regardless of where the second try would revert him to, back to the world of Instrumentality or the world of individuals, he decided it would be better than timeless solitude. He would follow the voice, wherever it led him.

* * *

><p>"Doctor, his pulse is beginning to fall!"<p>

"What? There's no way that can be. He passed the threshold!"

"...And he's passed back over it again. Approaching normal levels."

"Restart of mental activity! The graph's marking normal level of consciousness for coma states!"

"Breathing is steadying. It's not so faint; I can clearly see his chest rise and fall."

"It appears... there's a sudden flood of endorphins as the adrenaline is released from his systems. Note this?"

The blond doctor, wide eyed, shook her head in disbelief. She stood against the white, sanitary wall, removed from the excited combination of jubilation, panic, and confusion from the six doctors seeing to the boy. "Shinji Ikari..." she muttered, "You're a little coward. You were dissolved into nothingness by an Angel, but you came back. You destroyed the world, but you brought it back." She glanced to the beeping monitor and took a few notes on a small pad of paper. "Just who are you, Shinji?"

One of the other doctors turned to her. "You say something, Ritsuko?"

She pursed her lips. "Nothing important." She wondered where the boy's caretaker was, however. Did she not remain kneeling by his side all night? What could have torn her away?

The doctor's first question was answered when the dark-haired woman opened the door with a defeated look on her face. Upon seeing the doctors, she froze, preparing for the worst, but soon glanced at the screen displaying the boys vital signs. the relief that coursed through her features was like nothing the doctor had ever seen.

"Misato?" She tried to bring her friend back to reality. There was nothing to be relieved about yet. "Misato... we're still not sure whether this condition is permanent, but we think it may be. Especially if attacks like that continue... he has a week or so at most."

The dark-haired woman considered this for a few seconds, but after her previous emotional panic she found that the news did not move her. Her strategic, commander's brain had taken over and was forcing her to weigh the situation objectively. The boy was dying, yes, that much was certain. But they would all die eventually. She had died already, but found herself saved by the end and reformation of the world. Saved by the boy. She did not know his motives for triggering instrumentality but, well, if she had the chance to destroy the world and bring him back from the dead, she would do so in an instant. _Is this how Commander Ikari felt?_ she wondered, _How this whole mess got started?_

Her phone started vibrating in her pocket. She needed to get to work. After all, it was her job to take care of the world the boy thought was worth saving.

"Hello?"

"Commander Katsuragi!"

She flinched at the still unfamiliar title. Since the former commander and his assistant had yet to return from the sea of humanity, the leading position at NERV belonged to her. "Yes... what is it?"

"Commander... we've detected an AT Field."

* * *

><p>The presence had stopped calling to him. Why did it stop? Was it abandoning him?<p>

_Are you there? _asked the boy, his voice trembling slightly. Without guidance he was blind and unable to move. The silence lasted far longer than he anticipated.

Finally, and answer reverberated through his mind. _I am still here, Shinji. I am only thinking._

_Thinking about what?_

_Whether you deserve this. I am not sure if you do. _

The boy hung his head. He knew this ray of hope was too good to be true.

_I believe... that I will continue, for now. I can leave whenever I desire, after all._

_Please don't leave me! _the boy sobbed.

_Oh?_ The voice sounded mildly surprised. _I've left you before, and it destroyed you. For that, my Shinji, I apologize. But there was no other option, you see. Oh Shinji... A part of me is glad to know that you still care this much. Now walk._

The boy obeyed without question, even through his feet began to grow heavier with each step. To his surprise, the world began taking form around him. The could begin to make out the ground through the fog, a dark plane beneath him. He could even see the faintest lines of objects in the distance.

_You will soon approach a statue. As you near it, you will tell me what it is._

Indeed, there was something in front of him. The shape was vaguely humanoid; if he did not have the voice's reassuring words of its lifelessness, he would certainly have panicked. His careful steps took him closer, and he could begin to make out more detailed featured. Finally, it dawned on him.

_An... an angel._

A delicate, Renaissance angel with soft feathered wings. Romanticized. He wished he still thought of angels as something so pure and beautiful.

_An angel, you say? _mused the presence, _How... interesting._

"What? What do you mean you've detected an AT Field?"

Shinji flinched at the loud, panicked yell that rang through his years. It wasn't the presence invading his mind. he didn't know what it was, but it was from somewhere that alien, outside the world of his mind, and it scared him. Dreams and dream-like states being what they are, however, in a few seconds the words floated from his mind, leaving him alone within himself once again as he passed the angel.

_Now, Shinji, listen to me closely. Whatever you do, you are not to turn and look back at that angel Do you understand?_

The boy nodded, but he could already feel the temptation building up within him.

_Do **not **turn back to it._

He wanted to look. He wanted it _so badly. _But he was obedient and complacent. His guardian had once jokingly asked him if he'd ever been lobotomized. He wasn't going to suddenly grow a will now. He shoved his own feeling and urges away from his mind and stepped forward with more confidence.

_Good boy,_ said the voice, but with an obvious tint of disappointment.

The boy panicked at the thought that he'd done something wrong. He had to be perfect. Wasn't this his last chance? He _had_ to be perfect.

* * *

><p>The commander ran down the halls like a woman possessed. She had to get to headquarters. There was an Angel approaching, returned from the sea of LCL alongside its distant siblings, the Lilim.<p>

But the pilots couldn't pilot, and the world had not recovered. There were no weapons in working conditions, and no United Nations to guide the operation. The commander would have to face the Angel with nothing but sticks and stones.

No matter what motives Adam's children may have had at first, the third Impact would have changed everything.

But what truly had the woman panicked was not the deplorable lack of defense weapons or resources, it was that the Angel itself was not yet in sight, but the light of it's soul was already strong enough to encompass the new Tokyo.

A fourth impact... was suddenly not unheard-of.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>I'm afraid this has not been edited at all, but I wanted to get it up. I picture two more updates before this story draws to a close. I'd love to hear any predictions!

Also, I'd love to direct you to this flash game I happened upon, Loved. http:/ jayisgames. com /games/ loved/

Upon playing this, (And replaying. And replaying.) the only thing I could think of was, "Man, someone this game makes me feel like I'm Shinji Ikari at the end of EVA." Play it, and you'll see what I mean. It's currently influencing this story considerably.

Ciao, reviews are appreciated.


End file.
